Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  “What are your teammates doing tonight?”

  Alex is sprawled out on his favorite part of the sectional, his leg elevated on a pillow with an ice pack on his knee. In spite of the injury, his muscular physique can’t be hidden by a soft t-shirt and worn athletic shorts. He looks so young, so sexy, so…

  “I don’t know.” He snaps me out of my ogling with his soft words. “Why?”

  I gesture toward him. “Friday nights are one of the few free evenings players have during the season. Saturdays are the only days to sleep in. Wouldn’t you rather be out enjoying yourself?”

  A smirk slides across his lips. “I’m enjoying myself just fine with the way you’re looking at me.”

  My cheeks heat. I should have known I wasn’t hiding my lust very well. “You’re only twenty-five. In the prime of your career. So few players at this age and stage even want to settle down. I simply don’t want you to feel that you need to spend your free time with me because I’m heavily pregnant and living with you.”

  He raises his eyebrow, a look of displeasure spreading across his face. He gestures with his finger for me to come closer. “I am exactly where I want to be tonight. You could be a little closer though.”

  I shake my head.

  His hand flops into his lap. “Do you want to go out? Are you bored here at home? I thought you had a rule about not being seen in public with me?”

  “It’s obviously not a rule because we’ve already been photographed at dinner together.” I’m still salty about being called a fat cow by strangers online. I was barely showing at that point. Hardly overweight.

  While I’m busy pouting, Alex wraps his hand around my ankle since my legs are propped up on the other side of the couch. He pulls me to him. I don’t put up much of a fight as he rearranges my limbs until I’m tucked into his side. He raises his eyebrows at me, waiting.

  “I still firmly believe the optics of us being seen together in public aren’t beneficial to either of us. If enough photos of me surface online, then it’s only a matter of time until people identify me as the team psychologist. Just because I disclosed our relationship during the hiring process doesn’t mean other people in the league won’t question the ethics of us sitting together at a candlelit table. If enough of the right people question it, then Mr. Brooks could very well change his mind about my state of employment.”

  Alex nods, his expression serious. “That’s all valid. I can’t argue any of it. How long are we going to realistically be able to keep this on the downlow though? We can’t shut the baby up in the house. She’ll be born at the hospital; she’ll have doctor’s appointments; playdates as she gets older.”

  “I’ll take her to most of those things though.” I shrug.

  He raises his eyebrow again. That habit is really starting to annoy me. “You don’t want me to be photographed in public with my own daughter?”

  “Do you want to be photographed in public carrying a diaper bag and wearing her in one of those odd baby backpack things? That will send mixed messages about your brand of luxury men’s underwear and eight-packs.”

  He grins. “Only if the diaper bag is pink and sparkly.”

  I laugh because I can absolutely picture it in my mind. Alex has always been so self-assured, confident in every way. He would make pink look good. And he will make ovaries explode all over the internet while holding a baby.

  “You’re getting that lusty look in your eyes again, Brain,” he murmurs.

  “What if she doesn’t like pink?” I can’t give into my overactive libido all the time. We have to be able to have conversations that don’t involve our bodies. Blake’s warning lingers in the back of my mind.

  He rolls his eyes. “She’ll be a baby. She won’t have color preferences until she’s older. I’m buying a pink, sparkly diaper bag. You can’t stop me. You can use a blue camo one when you take her out of the house.”

  I snort.

  He brings his face closer to mine. “This has been a fun distraction, but you’re not throwing me off the trail. Are you feeling cooped up? Do you want to go out?”

  “No,” I answer honestly. “I’ve already taken off my bra and changed into comfortable clothes.”

  His gaze dips down to my chest before he brushes his lips across my forehead. “Do you want a candlelit dinner? I can arrange that here for us.”

  “We already had dinner.”

  He pulls away to frown at me. “Do you want some space from me? I feel like you get it every other weekend when I’m on the road, but I’m running out of guesses for why you’re trying to shove me out the door tonight. You’re gonna have to actually talk to me, here, sweetheart.”

  I’m still not ready to tell him all the things that need to be said. Much like the baby, the closer I keep the things I hold dearest, the more protected they are. “I was genuinely trying to be courteous with your Friday evening. That’s all.”

  His sharp blue eyes dance across my face—studying, thinking, seeing more than meets the common eye. “I had my walk on the wild side. It was fun while it lasted, but it got exhausting after a while. I’m happy to stay home with you now.” He tips his head back and forth. “You’re not me though. You hardly ever went to parties in college. You buckled down and worked even harder during grad school. Some nights I had the awful thought your phone calls with me were the extent of your social life.”

  He’s not wrong. Mostly.

  “I also had Tinder dates like the one that resulted in this. That was pretty wild and crazy of me.” I sigh and pat my stomach.

  Alex’s large hands spread across the baby’s safe, warm home. His touch is careful, reverent. Ever since she first started moving, he’s always eager to guess whether it’s a hand or a foot threatening to poke through my skin.

  “Do you feel like you missed your chance?” he murmurs. “You were always working toward the goal of your career, and now you’re about to be a mom. Do you regret never going out on Friday nights? Not attending as many frat parties as you could have?”

  I sigh out my confession. “Yes. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I do regret that I won’t get to do those things now.”

  He glances up from where the baby wiggles in my belly. “Our lives are going to change when she’s born, not end. If you want me to take you to a club on a Friday night, then we’ll get a sitter. If you want to go out on your own with the girls, then I’ll stay home with our girl.”

  I appreciate that he’s not assuming I’ll lose my independence. He’s not saying my only option is to experience new things with him. “I don’t know anyone in this city. I don’t have any girlfriends, and I can’t imagine trusting a stranger to stay with her.”

  He grins. “Don’t worry. Rob and Evie have a security guy. I’ll make him investigate anyone we consider hiring.”

  That’s a jarring thought I’d never considered before. “Do we need a security guy?”

  “Do you have a stalker who was released from prison then promptly disappeared that I don’t know about?”

  Oh. Of course.

  “I thought they had security to deal with fans and paparazzi,” I admit.

  “The paps are annoying, but they won’t approach guys as big as us. The fans mean well. They won’t bother you or the baby unless I’m with you, and if that happens, I’ll be the distraction. It’s fine.”

  “You’re sure?” These are all the things that make life with a professional athlete so complex. Things I know about my clients’ lives but didn’t have to consider how they would personally impact me before.

  “I would never do anything to put you or her in a dangerous situation.” He brushes his lips across mine and meets my gaze before relaxing into the couch again. “You’ve only been here a few months. You’ll make friends eventually. Mommy groups and shit like that.”

  I’m not so sure. “I work as much as you do. It’ll be a huge adjustment to juggle caring for a baby alongside my job. I don’t think I’m going to have as much social time as you’re imagining
.”

  “Damn. I guess that means you’re stuck being wild and crazy with me.” He grins.

  I laugh. “We’re sitting at home on a Friday night, watching a movie. Your definition of wild and crazy has certainly changed since college.”

  He pops his eyebrows. “Is that a challenge, Brain?”

  “What are we going to do, Brawn? Strip naked and go swimming in the lake behind the house?” It’s literally the only thing I can think of. That’s how lame I am.

  Alex’s eyes widen. He swallows thickly. “Do you want to be wild or do you want to die?”

  “I am not suicidal, no. Why are you asking me that?”

  He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t ever go back there after dark. Don’t linger around the lakeshore, close to the water, at any time of day. There are gators back there. Bigger than me. If one of them gets ahold of you, you’re a goner.”

  I completely forgot that Florida is populated with all sorts of dangerous creatures. “We’re a long way from Ohio, aren’t we?”

  “We live in a tropical paradise, but it has its drawbacks.” He grins then whips off his shirt. “That’s why we’re going to stay inside where we won’t be eaten alive.”

  “If you’re suggesting strip poker, then I want to point out that you’re already breaking the rules. You have to actually play the game to take off pieces of clothing.”

  He doesn’t stop at his shirt. I watch as he strips to nothing at all. He lays on the chaise section and pats his lap where his erection is already pulsing to full mast. “Climb on, cowgirl. You can be as wild as you want.”

  “All we ever do is have sex. We should try something else.” The words have no force behind them. I’m already drooling at the sight of the effortlessly sexy, naked, aroused man stretched out and waiting for me to give in.

  “I know she wants the D is usually taken as an insult, but Amira. You literally want the D. All the time.” He barely stifles a laugh. “Your eyes are blacker than black; your nipples are poking through your thin little shirt, and you can’t stop staring at my family jewels. You’re only hurting yourself by not giving in.”

  I gesture toward his erection. “I beg to differ. That looks quite…uncomfortable.”

  He folds his arms behind his head. “You said you wanted to keep the status quo. As of yesterday, that meant at least four orgasms a day. You’ve already had the requisite three from my tongue. If you don’t want things to change between us, then you’re due for your dicking before bed.”

  Damn him. It’s not necessarily dirty talk, but the way Alex’s voice gets all gravely when he says things like that makes my nipples tighter almost to the point of pain. My breasts are heavy and hungry for his touch, his mouth, whatever he’s willing to give me. “If I climb on top of you, then things will change between us. I am never on top.”

  “You’re getting bigger, sweetheart.” He winks. “At that last doctor’s visit, she told you not to lay flat on your back anymore. We’re going to have to make some modifications.”

  “There’s so much to choose from.” My voice comes out muffled as I pull my shirt over my head. I list everything I’ve never gotten to try as I slide out of my shorts and panties. “Spooning, doggy style, wheelbarrow, sitting butterfly, corkscrew, golden arch, caboose…champagne room. You are familiar with that one, yes?”

  His eyes scream murder. “Are you trying to provoke me to throw the remote at the TV?”

  I place my hands on his chest as I straddle him. “I was only joking. I know you don’t really utilize the champagne room at the club.”

  He clamps his hands around my hips and slides me along his length. His eight-pack flexes and curls as he raises himself up to whisper against my lips, “I don’t want to hear about all the positions you learned with other men.”

  “Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I learned those from the internet. You were right about apps. Those guys only want to dip it, then quit it.”

  His shoulders shake with silent laughter that he holds back by biting his lip. So sexy. In spite of his amusement, his eye twitches—a sure sign that he’s angry. He hisses, “Stop talking about them while my cock is getting wet from your pussy.”

  A sudden flash of power slices through my veins. I push him back to rest against the couch again while I take over teasing his crown through my folds. “I am quite certain you have slept with many more people than I have. Besides, didn’t you tell me that you wanted me to talk about it? You said I should spend hours telling you all about the men I fell in love with.”

  I jump when he swats my rear.

  He raises that damn eyebrow again. “Keep talking, sweetheart. I can do this all night.”

  “I hate every single one of them.” I moan as tingles of warmth unfurl from the spot, clouding my mind with pleasure. My muscles quiver with anticipation for more.

  He reaches his hands up and pinches my nipples with steady increasing pressure. “Good. You know how I feel.”

  With every ounce of willpower I possess, I peel my eyes open to meet his half-lidded gaze. “I hate her most of all.”

  He swats my ass again.

  I could orgasm from that alone.

  “Show me. Show me how much you hate her.”

  I slide him in painstakingly slowly, torturing us both.

  He groans—a loud, long, low vibration that shoots straight to my throbbing clit. He presses his head back against the couch cushion, and his eyes slide closed. His mouth hangs open. The muscles in his strong jaw and throat tense.

  I torment and tease until there’s nowhere left to go. My full weight rests against his thighs. He’s seated so deeply inside me. I’m ready to come now, but I don’t want to break so soon.

  He slaps my cheek again.

  I blink to find his bright blue gaze penetrating into me.

  “I said show me. Show me how much you fucking hate her. Rip me to shreds, Amira. I can take it.”

  “Tell me,” I whimper.

  He knows. He knows exactly what I’m asking for. He shakes his head slowly as his hands slide up to wrap around my throat. “No. Not like this.”

  The pressure, his control even from beneath me, my stinging skin, and his thick, long cock work to put me under a spell I succumb to.

  I’m wild. I’m free. I slide and ride and moan and take and take and take.

  “Fuck, yes.” Alex’s grunt pierces through my trance. “Take me. I’m yours.”

  He makes me sing without any sound except the primal slapping of skin against skin. He’s so deep, and he works against me to hit all the right spots. He increases the pressure around my throat with one hand while rubbing firm, steady circles against my clit.

  I can’t fight it anymore.

  Wave after wave of bliss undulates through my body in piercing pleasure and a hint of pain.

  Spent, I collapse forward only to be kept from his warm, waiting chest by a considerable ball between us.

  He chuckles and rolls slightly to his side, where he tucks me between his body and the arm of the couch.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Ssh,” he whispers against my forehead. “You know the rules. No apologies. I told you we’ll have to make some modifications.”

  I pull my bleary eyes from the crook of his shoulder to meet his smiling face. “But, you didn’t—”

  “The hell I didn’t,” he interrupts with a firm kiss to my lips. “How could I not? That was the hottest ride ever.”

  “You have a thing for pregnant women?” It’s a thing. I read about it online.

  “I have a thing for you.”

  “You still won’t tell me?” I don’t even know why I’m pushing for something I’m not certain I’ll believe even if I hear it.

  “No.” He brushes his lips back and forth across my forehead. “Actions speak louder than words anyway.”

  I feel them. The way he glides his fingertips up and down my back. How he pauses to run his fingers through my hair. He’s still breaking all the rules. His rules.

&n
bsp; “This is all a dream,” I murmur as sleep beckons. “I’ll wake up, and it will end.”

  “Not for me,” he promises with a deep hum that vibrates my bones. “It’s been six years, sweetheart. I think that means you’re stuck with me.”

  I’ve been stuck with him all along. I’m simply delaying the inevitable. When he’s done playing house with me, he’ll break my heart. Again.

  “Stop fidgeting. You look fucking gorgeous. If any of those photographers aren’t focused on you instead of me, it will be a crime against humanity.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She glares at me from the passenger seat of my Lamborghini.

  “We don’t have to go in the front.” I actually don’t know any other way in, but all the reasons she listed for not wanting to be photographed in public with me matter. She matters. Her job matters. She matters to me.

  Her smile looks laughable. “This is a charity event for the team, yes? I am technically part of the team. It is not odd for me to be here. Mr. Brooks personally invited me.”

  I like where she’s going with this, but there are a few problems with that line of reasoning. “If I parade you down that red carpet the way I want to, people are going to want to know who’s on my arm. Especially because they haven’t gotten any shots of me with a woman since I was drafted. As hot as you look, there’s no hiding that you’re pregnant. Assumptions will be made.”

  “I know,” she mumbles. She twists the fabric of her long, black dress, leaving wrinkles in the silk.

  The great thing about valet parking at an event isn’t that someone else has to deal with where to put my car, it’s that it gives me time in the long-ass line to prepare to put my celebrity face on. Being the smiling guy with recognizable eight-pack abs doesn’t happen in an instant. It takes a few minutes to bury all the shit I lug around every second of every day. The fans don’t want to know about that. They want to see the perfect version of me.